


Battle of Wits

by TaleasOldasTimeandSpace



Series: Darcy Lewis, Consulting Detective [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Darcyland (Marvel), Gen, Sherlock AU, gratuitous princess bride references, the murderer falls victim to one of the classic blunders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/pseuds/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace
Summary: Never go up against Darcy Lewis when death is on the line.





	Battle of Wits

Darcy hooked a chair and flopped down opposite the taxi driver, her movements loud in the empty cafeteria.  ‘So, Captain Cab. You gonna monologue the evil plan or am I?’

He pushed his hat back with his thumb.  ‘I have a name,’ he said mildly.

‘Yeah, don’t care.’  She crossed her arms and tilted her chair back, using the motion to hide activating the panic button/audio recorder ring Tony had given her when she started hanging out with Steve at the precinct.  The man was overprotective and paranoid, but sometimes overprotective paranoia came in handy.  She just had to keep the killer talking until the cavalry arrived, probably fifteen minutes.  Less, if Tony hacked the traffic grid again.

If there was one thing Darcy was good at (besides the whole scary observant thing, which was often less a gift and more a supreme annoyance), it was talking.

‘You’ve murdered four people in the last year,’ she continued.  ‘Excuse me if I don’t feel like being chummy.’

‘I didn’t murder anyone.  I gave all of them a fair shot, same as I’ll give you.’

‘Wow, so generous.’  She knew it wasn't her wisest move, going off alone with a man she knew was a murderer.  Tony and Steve never would have let her leave if they'd known what she was up to.  But they'd been too busy yelling at each other to notice.  They'd both be yelling at her when this was over.  She’d let them; it would make them feel better, and their blood pressure had been high of late.

Bucky had noticed her slipping out, but he also hadn't made any move to stop her.  She still hadn't decided if he just didn't realize, or if he trusted her to know what she was doing.  She really hoped it was the latter.

‘Keeps things interesting,’ Captain Cab said, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand.

‘I'm sure.  Let's get this over with.’  The sooner she got her evidence, the sooner she could tase him.

‘As you wish.’  Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out two small glass bottles and set them on the table.  In each bottle was a single, large pill.

‘Gnarly.’

Captain Cab ignored her commentary.  ‘One pill is poison, one is harmless.  You take one, and I take the other.’

‘And we find out who is right, and who is dead, I know.  I saw _Princess Bride._  I suppose you spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder, too.  No deal.’

He cocked his head.  ‘Don’t you want to know if you’re really are the smartest person in the room?’

‘I never claimed to be the smartest person in the room.  My best friend is an astrophysicist, and I’ve been unofficially adopted by Tony Stark.  That’s smart.  I just notice things.  Kinda like Miss Marple.’  Shoving away from the table, she made to stand up.  ‘But I do like to think I'm a little smarter than your average Vizzini, so I'm gonna take a hard pass on your whole battle of wits shenanigans, if it's all the same to you.’  Her movements were halted by the gun he produced from under his jacket.  ‘Dude, how many pockets do you _have_ in that thing?’

‘I didn't say you could leave, Miss Lewis.  Not when you haven't played the game.’  He gestured with the gun, and she dropped back into her chair.

‘I bet you were real popular as a kid, weren’t you?’

‘It's quite simple, really,’ he continued blithely.  ‘Take a pill, or I'll shoot you where you sit.’

She snorted.  ‘Dramatic much?  You still haven't told me why you're doing this.  Where's the backstory?  The motivation?  What’s going to keep the folks back home watching?’  He didn’t answer, and she huffed.  ‘Fine, I’ll do it myself.  Tell me how off I am, okay?’  Cracking her neck, she unloaded all the observations she’d been making since she’d climbed in the back of his cab, from the picture on his dash (‘Been taped there a couple of years, judging by the fading.  I know divorce is painful, but murder is a bad way to cope’), to his clothes (‘Everything you’re wearing is several years old.  You could be super into thrift stores—and who wouldn’t be, ’cause thrift stores are awesome—but everything’s at least two sizes too big.  Lost a lot of weight recently?’).

‘My guess—and this is just a guess, mind you—is that you’re dying.  You’ve been dying for a while now, and the only people who might care have been out of your life for years.’  She steepled her fingers under her chin.  ‘How’d I do?’

He laughed, but there was no humour in it.  ‘Lung cancer. Had chemo, surgery, the whole nine yards.  Been in remission for a couple of years.  Probably would have lived a long and relatively happy life, except they discovered I have a brain aneurysm during my last check up.  Inoperable, nothing they can do about it.  I could drop dead at any minute.’

‘Not to sound insensitive, because that absolutely stinks, but that’s true of everyone, ever.  And yeah, it’s more obvious for you than it is for a lot of people, but it doesn’t change the fact that life is guaranteed to no one.’  She narrowed her eyes.  ‘And it also doesn’t explain why you suddenly decided to go on a killing spree.  You don’t strike me as the type to be doing this for fun.’

He shrugged.  ‘It’s a little fun.  But no, you’re right.  Shortly after I got the news, I was approached by...let’s say a benefactor.  They offered to see that my children will be taken care of after my death, provided I find people to play the game.  Now.’  He’d been gesturing absently with the gun as he talked, but now he trained it at Darcy’s head. ‘I think that’s quite enough talking, don’t you?’  She opened her mouth, but he didn’t pause.  ‘It’s time to choose: The pill, or the gun?’

She sighed, then leaned forward, bracing her arms on the table.  ‘Okey dokey then.  Having thought this over—very carefully, mind you—I’ll take the gun.’

He blinked.  ‘Are you sure?’

‘Oh, very.  Shoot me now.’

‘Okay.’  With a shrug, he pulled the trigger.  Instead of the clap of exploding gunpowder, there was a soft whir as a stream of bubbles floated across the table.  He cocked his head.  ‘You’re the first person to pick the gun in all the time I’ve played this game.  How did you know?’

She leaned back in her chair and rolled her eyes.  ‘Dude, one of my best friends is a detective.  I practically live at the precinct.  I know what a real gun looks like.’  Once again, she pushed herself to her feet.  ‘Not that hasn’t been _super_ fun, but I gotta jet.  Don’t get up.  I can show myself out, and law enforcement will be here shortly to escort you to your new home.’

She’d made it halfway to the doors when he spoke.  ‘I don’t think so.’

Turning back to face him, she found herself looking down the barrel of another gun.  ‘Seriously, do you have timelord pockets or something?’

‘As I’m sure you can tell, this one is quite real.  So let’s try this again.’  He nodded to the bottles.  ‘Choose.’

‘You did hear the part about the cops coming, right?’ Darcy said, estimating whether she could pull her taser before he shot her.  The odds didn’t look good at the moment.  ‘I don’t have to do anything.’

‘I have nothing to lose, remember?  I’ll shoot you the second those doors open.’

‘Fine.’  Time to change the odds.  She started for the bottles, but he held up his free hand.

‘Tell me which, and I’ll pass it to you.’

She put a hand on her chest.  ‘Don’t you trust me?’

The gun didn’t waver.  ‘Now.’

‘You’re no fun.  Alright, eeny, meeny, miny…moe.’  Her pointing finger landed on the bottle on the left.

He raised an eyebrow.  ‘Not the most scientific method.’

‘Oh whatever, Dread Cabbie Roberts.  Just gimme the murder pill.’  He obligingly slid the bottle across the table, and she swiped it up.  She shook it gently, listening to the rattle of the pill hitting the glass of the bottle.

He sighed heavily.  ‘Stalling won't do you any good.’

‘Don't rush me.’  Holding it up to the flickering fluorescent light, she wondered if she could get away with pulling out the pocket magnifier Steve had given her for her birthday.  Probably not.  Doom Buggy was twitchy enough as it was, and she didn’t want to blow what would most likely be her one shot to pull something out of _her_ coat.  

She tossed the bottle into the air and caught it with the opposite hand, enjoying his full-body flinch.  ‘What’s in it for me?’

‘Ex _cuse_ me?’

She waved a hand.  ‘You’re excused.’

‘Miss Lewis—’

‘No, but seriously, what’s in it for me?  We’ve already established I don’t care about being “the smartest in the room,”’ she emphasised the phrase with air quotes, ‘so what do I get out of risking my life to play your insane game?’

‘What do you want?’

‘The name of the guy who put you up  to this.’  She popped the lid of her bottle and held up the pill.  ‘Do we have a deal?’

* * *

 

Bucky pounded up yet another flight of stairs, half his attention on his phone and the blinking green dot that was Darcy on his newly-installed tracking app.  The dot had been stationary since halfway through his trip to the school campus, and he hoped that simply meant Darcy was crime solving and not dead.

He'd waited five minutes before following her out of Baker Street, Stark and Steve too involved in their argument to notice his absence any more than they had Darcy's.  He planned to call them as soon as he assessed the situation, though he wouldn't be surprised if Darcy had already arranged to alert them.

They'd probably yell at the pair of them like the overprotective mother hens they were, but he didn't particularly care.  He was fairly sure Darcy was on the verge of catching the murder, if she hadn't already, and he knew she could use backup when she did.  He just had to find her.

The tracker app was good for direction, but not so much for height.  He knew he was in the right place—the taxi parked outside was a pretty good indication, especially since Darcy had been muttering about taxies right before she ran off—but there was no way of telling where exactly she was in the building.  He'd picked the nearest entrance and started clearing the floors as fast as he dared, keeping an eye out for lights and an ear out for voices.

Or gunshots.

He reached the next floor and pushed through the fire door.  It appeared deserted at first, like all the others, but when he was halfway through he _finally_ caught a glimmer of light.  It shone faintly from the window of a classroom door.  He stuffed his phone in his pocket and pulled out his gun. Approaching on silent feet, he paused to steady his breathing before kicking the door open and sweeping the room with his gun.  He caught sight of Darcy and froze.

‘No, no, no, _no.’_  He'd found her, alright, and it didn't do either one of them any good.  She was in what looked like a cafeteria, her back to the window as she held a bottle up to the light.  Seated across a table from her was a man—the murderer, he had to be—holding a gun on Darcy.  Neither one looked up when he burst through the door, mostly because an enclosed courtyard lay between them.  

He was on the wrong side of the building, and she was out of time.

Even as he watched, she opened the bottle and emptied its contents into her hand.  He knew from listening to her talk about the case that it was one of the poison pills the murderer forced his victims to take, and based on the gun he was intent adding Darcy to his list of murders.

Not if Bucky had a say.  Almost without thought, he brought up his gun and squeezed the trigger.

The man collapsed in a heap behind the table.  Darcy dropped the bottle and whirled, a taser aimed at the window his shot had broken.  What good she thought a taser would do at that distance he had no idea.  Though come to think of it, she'd probably gotten it from Stark.  Maybe she knew exactly what it would do.

Her eyes widened as she met his across the courtyard.  She looked from him, to the (hopefully dead) murderer, to the doors behind her, and back to him.  Jamming the taser back into its holster, she made a shooing motion at him before pulling off her scarf and disappearing behind the table with the taxi driver.

Right.  It probably wasn't a good idea for him to hang around and have Steve ask him awkward questions.  He holstered his gun and ducked out the classroom.  Nobody said he couldn’t arrive at the crime scene after the fact to provide emotional support to his traumatized roommate.

* * *

 

Darcy sat on the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a bright orange shock blanket and swinging her feet back and forth.  ‘I appreciate the blanket, though I'd appreciate it more if it was fluffy.  And purple.  Got any hot chocolate?’

Steve crossed his arms, shooting her the Disapproving Look of Justice.  ‘This is a crime scene, not a campout.’

‘Aw, you're just grumpy ’cause I solved your case for you.  You're welcome, by the way.  Tony would like hot chocolate, wouldn't you, Tony?’  She turned to him with sad puppy eyes.

Tony’s Disappointed Scientist look was just as effective as Steve’s, all the more so because he used it so infrequently.  ‘Don't look at me, you're grounded, young lady.’

‘Wow, harsh.'  She hunched further into her blanket.  'Did you miss the part where I solved the case?’

Steve raised an eyebrow.  ‘Did _you_ miss the part where you went off with a murderer and nearly got killed?’

‘But I _didn't.'_   She was starting to question why she’d decided to let them yell at her.

‘Yeah, ’cause you had help.’  Tony jerked a thumb at the coroner’s van, holding the body of the taxi driver in mute testimony of Bucky’s skill with illegal firearms.  ‘Who was that masked man, anyway?’

Well _that_ was a line of questioning that didn’t need to be explored.  ‘How should I know?  I'm in shock.  Look, I got a blanket and everything.’  She flapped the blanket like an oversized bat for emphasis.  Steve opened his mouth, but she hopped off the back of the ambulance before he could continue his interrogation.  ‘I need to go home and hug my dog.’

‘Darcy—’

‘I’ll see you at the precinct tomorrow, Steve.  Tony, your tech is awesome, just like you.  Namarie!’  Darcy’s blanket fluttered behind her like a cape as she headed for the police tape border.  Her plans to flag down a taxi to take her back to Baker Street, Balrog, and an oversized mug of hot chocolate stalled when she caught sight of Bucky standing on the other side of the yellow tape, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he’d just heard what had happened and rushed over to see if his roommate was still alive.

She stopped on her side of the tape and squinted up at him.  ‘Do you even have a permit to carry that thing?’

His lips quirked.  ‘Like you have a permit for that taser of yours?’

‘I’ll have you know that Palpatine was a gift and has great sentimental value for me.’

He shook his head.  ‘Of course you named your taser Palpatine.’  Grabbing the police tape, he held it up for her to duck under.  ‘Stark gave it to you, didn’t he?’

‘No comment.  How did you know where I was, anyway?’  She shot him an inquiring glance over her shoulder as she raised an arm to signal a taxi.

The taxi glided to a halt in front of them, and Bucky held the door open for her.  ‘Planted a tracker on your coat. Figured sooner or later I'd need to find you in a hurry.’

‘Planted a tracker…’  She froze in the process of  sliding across the seat.  ‘Wait, one of _my_ trackers?’

He nudged her out of the way and closed the door behind them.  ‘You weren't using it.’

‘I'm impressed, young Padawan.’

‘So am I.  How did you know he was the murderer?’

She lifted a shoulder.  ‘Hacked Jennifer’s phone.  She’d left it in the back of his cab the night he killed her, so it was just a matter of tracing it.  But that’s not the interesting part.’

‘Of course it isn’t.  So what is?’

‘He told me somebody else put him up to it.’  She frowned, watching the lights of the city flow past.  ‘Apparently there’s a wacko out there who gets a kick out of paying people to do his serial killing for him.’

‘That’s an unpleasant thought.  Did he give you a name?’

‘Eventually.’  She had to suppress a shudder at the memory of the murderer’s last moments.

_‘Why should I tell you?’  He laughed, blood trickling from his mouth and nose and coating her hands as she tried to staunch the bleeding.  ‘I’m dying.’_

_She resisted the urge to apply unnecessary pressure to his wound.  ‘Don’t you want me to play the game?’_

‘Darcy?’  She blinked, attention snapping back to Bucky.  ‘What’s the name?’

‘Moriarty.’

 

**Author's Note:**

> Steve never officially found out who killed the cabbie, but he knows Darcy, and he knows Bucky, and he has his suspicions. Tony hacked the security footage for the school. He never said anything, but a couple of weeks later Bucky got a new, state-of-the-art StarkArm in the mail. Complete with handgun. Darcy told him it's proof he's been adopted.
> 
> Sherlock's decuction that the cabbie was dying based on the fact that all his clothes were several years old has always bugged me. Lots of people wear the same stuff forever, Sherlock. Thrift stores are a thing, Sherlock. NOT EVERYONE IS A RICH SNOB WHO BUYS A NEW WARDROBE EVERY YEAR, SHERLOCK.
> 
> *clears throat* Anyway. This was just supposed to be another snippet like the rest of my Consulting Detective series, but it got away from me.
> 
> Come hang out on [tumblr](https://taleasoldastime-andspace.tumblr.com/)! We can whimper about Infinity War together.
> 
> Namarie, my little bilgesnipes!


End file.
